Training

The frost blew… Those who have experienced this kind of
frost know you can put it like this. The weak sun, size of
a kopek coin, was muted by the grey sky. Under the grey
sky sat a saboteur. He sat on a hill. He had an impermeable
coverall, with fur inside, electrically heated and hooded.

He also wore boots. High ones. Home-made Russian boots,
waterproof. And the saboteur was also home-made but a hired
one, from the saboteurs’ unit. He spent the night there. In our
snow. And now, he was eating. Vacantly. From our can. He
twisted-turned-opened something in it and began to eat at
once because the can had a self-heating device.

With the broad and measured movements of his horse-
like jaws the saboteur was simultaneously watching the
foothills. He was waiting for them to come and get him.
The third day of training went by. Implacably. Our boys
were learning to repel an attack on our naval base by this type
of electro-fish-horse.

A defence headquarters had been set up. An operational
unit had been put together, which would catch these hired
horses with the help of a combined platoon of Eastern
wolfhounds.

Information update: our Eastern wolfhounds are small,
sinewy, tough, courageous. And handsome. In their own way.
One and a quarter metres tall. But the main thing is: they don’t
think. If they get hold of something, they don’t let go. And
the other main thing is: there are lots and lots of them. Take
as many as you want because there are more where they came
from, as many as you need.

The wolfhounds arrived from different places with
their overcoats and belts, their boots stuffed with flannel
foot-bindings; they fed them in the waterfront galleys with
ordinary army food, the type of food you can only eat with
ideological conviction, and set them onto the saboteurs. The
one thing they forgot was to hand out mittens. But that’s a
minor thing. And, in any case, soldiers from Wolfhound-land
are different: their hands only freeze in the first six months.
And if you have anything to say about the food, we’ll answer
you this: if you can feed the army well, then why have an
army at all!

Then came the third day of training. On the first day,
the other side, dressed in all of our things, captured the
headquarters. This is how they did it: they divided into two
groups, then one half took the other into captivity and led
them straight into the headquarters. And the sub-lieutenant
saw through the window that someone had taken someone
else and shouted:

“Soldiers! Who did you get?!”

“We caught some saboteurs!”

“Good lads! You’ll all be commended! Bring them
straight to me!”

And so, they brought them. Straight to him. And thus
they occupied the headquarters.

On the second day of training, from the side of the polar
night and the shiny waters “the fish” sailed over and “mined” all of our boats. The last “fish” came on shore, dressed in
the uniform of a first-rank captain, more specifically of an
“inspector”, according to his documents; he arrived at the
checkpoint and gave a workout to the guard at the top…no, no,
no, just the observation over the waterfront. Because he didn’t
look in the right direction. Watch the waterfront and nothing
else. The whole time! As if you’re glued to it! Unblink ingly.

Do what you’re told. Without fail. See there? Right.

And the guard watched as he was told while “the first-
rank captain, the inspector” dropped by, on his rounds, to
the division commander, whose headquarters were located
next door. (On his way there he asked the guards: “Are you
keeping watch?” They replied, “Yes, Sir.” – “Well-well,”
he said, “keep it up!” and he walked on.) Then he arrested
the division commander, dragged him out of the window,
went down through the opposite section and took him away
in an inflatable rubber dinghy. Actually, they say that the
division commander himself inflated the dinghy under close
supervision by the “inspector”. But they’re probably lying.
The boat was already inflated by the oarsmen and was moored
by the special storm-ladder, which had been lowered into
place. It was made of silk. Very comfortable. And it was a
good boat too. A dream boat.

Naturally, the captain of the watch saw that a boat was
moving in another sector but he was responsible only for
his own sector and therefore didn’t report it. That is how the
second day ended.

On the third day, the task was to capture the saboteur
alive, the one on the hill. There he sat and waited for this to
happen. And our lot stood at the foot of the hill, pointing up at
him and conferring agitatedly. There were twenty of them and
they attacked with resolve, led by their commander. Even he
had joined the attack.

“Circle the hill! Kasimbekov! Go in!” the com mander
finally gave the order and they began to circle and go in.

The wolfhounds dug through the snow, wading out
chest-high into it, they swam in it and circled around their
target, unstoppably. At their head was Kasimbekov. Less than
forty minutes had passed when the first of them had swum
up to the saboteur. This first one smiled joyfully and tried to
catch his breath.

“Stop!” he exclaimed. “Hands up!” After which, all
of his strength left him, and only his smile remained. The
saboteur finished eating, stood up and kicked the first man.
During the next fifteen minutes, the rest of the attackers
congregated at the same place where the first one had stood.
The following ten minutes were dedicated to a “physical
conversation” between the wolfhounds and the saboteur. The
former never ceased smiling and, in the eastern custom, were
shouting ecstatically, flying through the air with their white
foot-bindings, and then crumpling the bushes and flying-
flying-falling back down with their foot-bindings wound
around their necks. It was great! Then the saboteur gave
himself up. He said: “I surrender.”

And they took him, alive. They packed him up and
carried him in their arms.